Ominous.
The temperature changes.
A quick thunderstorm arises in the desert.

Familiar.
In the moment.
I’ve been here before and there’s a score to settle.

Rocky.
I can’t conceive it.
The road is endless while it lasts.

Desolate.
The land is empty.
Only ruins and ghosts are in this place.

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Poem by Jason S. Sullivan, 06-27-20